


red beanie, leather jacket, and ripped jeans

by rowanisnever



Series: the mathematical consistency of love [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, Love at First Sight, M/M, as loganaa said to me, remus is a pretentious shit lol, sirius is totally the right brain and remus the left
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 21:37:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19281661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowanisnever/pseuds/rowanisnever
Summary: It's something that never would have happened if the minuscule events of his life hadn't lined up in a certain order to deliver him to this exact position. Remus takes a sip of his coffee, wincing slightly from his misprediction of the drink's temperature. His body starts to relax against the subway window when another train passes by them in the opposite direction.And there he was.Head also propped against the window, he stares out into the dark tunnels as he absentmindedly plays with the silver ring strung through his bottom lip. Tall, though not as tall as Remus, and wearing a leather jacket. A red beanie is tucked over his dark hair, of which is braided in a neat plait down his shoulder, with a black instrument case slung over his back.Their eyes meet. Remus observes that his were sterling grey, contrasting starkly with his own amber, before the other boy stands up straighter and flashes a grin at him, his entire face lighting up with the drastic change. Remus feels the corners of his own mouth curve up into a similar beam.Then, just as the order of events lined up to deliver him to this moment, it unravels, tugs, yanks, and pulls him back into the void, away from the mysterious boy.





	red beanie, leather jacket, and ripped jeans

There are eleven transportation lines working underneath the streets of London. That’s over two thousand subway cars, averaging approximately a billion riders every year. This means that the chances of seeing one person twice is one in sixty thousand, and that’s only if the two - hypothetical, of course -  people follow the same routines every single day. If one were to veer off the path, the chances would be even smaller.

Remus knows. He’s done the math.

Which is why he can’t explain how he managed to beat the odds.

The Friday it happened was as ordinary as can be. It started with the alarm going off at the same time as the day before, to him being slightly delayed by well meaning parents, to arriving a fraction of a second late to his favorite cafe on the other side of the street. His coffee was made perfectly. With enough sweets to not cause him to gag, but not too much to cause him to, well, also gag.

His train rumbles onto the tracks right as he stepped into the station. He’s going to arrive to school on time. Everything is neat and orderly, just the way he liked.

Then, it all flips upside down.

It's something that never would have happened if the minuscule events of his life hadn't lined up in a certain order to deliver him to this exact position. Remus takes a sip of his coffee, wincing slightly from his misprediction of the drink's temperature. His body just starts to relax against the subway window when another train passes by them in the opposite

And there he was.

Head also propped against the window, he stares out into the dark tunnels as he absentmindedly plays with the silver ring strung through his bottom lip. Tall, though not as tall as Remus, and wearing a leather jacket. A red beanie is tucked over his dark hair, of which is braided in a neat plait down his shoulder, with a black instrument case slung over his back.

Their eyes meet. Remus observes that his were sterling grey, contrasting starkly with his own amber, before the other boy stands up straighter and flashes a grin at him, his entire face lighting up with the drastic change. Remus feels the corners of his own mouth curve up into a similar beam.

Then, just as the order of the minuscule events of his life lined up to deliver him to this moment, it unravels, tugs, yanks, and pulls him back into the void, away from the mysterious boy.

<<<<<<<<<<

If someone were to ask Remus if he believed in love at first sight a year ago, he’d probably snort incredulously and send them the Lupin Look until they flee with their tail between their legs. Though he’s never had a boyfriend or a girlfriend before, Remus does know about solid facts and numbers. You can’t prove love exists by plugging variables into an equation, so why should he believe in something so frivolous?

Yet somehow he’s sure that’s exactly what happened on the train.

He doesn’t know how, but he sure as hell is going to see Mystery Boy again.

>>>>>>>>>>

It seems that today is all for miracles. It’s rare to see Remus’ entire family sitting down for dinner together. His parents both worked weird hours, as one of them is a surgeon and the other a scientist and Remus usually met up with several friends to work on extra credit assignments for AP Statistics, so there wasn’t much time in between to eat together. When they did, however, it’s usually an enjoyable time.

Usually.

Remus plops into one of the new chairs around the round dining table as his mother places bowls and plates onto the wooden surface. It groans under his weight, shrieking and protesting as he slides forward.

“Remus,” his mother says sharply. “I got those chairs for a good price. If you ruin them, I will sell your social security number and use the money to buy new ones.”

“That’s quite a specific threat, mamita,” Remus points out.

“And these are very expensive chairs, baby. I won’t hesitate to follow through if that’s what it takes.”

Remus very gradually and deliberately lifts the chair, catching his mother’s eye and nodding slowly as he sets it down. She rolls her eyes, though a fond smile plays on her lips.

“What’s up?” Lyall Lupin strolls into the kitchen, kissing his wife on the forehead before sitting down ungracefully. _Screech_ goes the chair. Hope’s head jerks up and proceeds to shoot the deadly Lupin Look at her husband, who is concerningly oblivious for a rocket scientist.

“We’re selling Remus on the black market,” she says. “His starting price is €31.”

“Ey, I thought I was worth more to you, mamita,” Remus complains. “Turns out I was wrong. The betrayal.”

“Boy, you don’t even do the dishes. When I was your age, why, we had to carry entire mountains on our backs Farm work! My mud hut burned down five times!”

“You’re getting lazy in your old age,” Remus remarks, ducking as Hope reaches out to flick his forehead playfully.

“No respect! Youngsters these days.”

“I regret asking.” Despite his words, his papa’s weary face relaxes as he reaches for a tortilla and slathers it in thick sauce.

“So,” Remus starts, interrupting their daily banter. “I met someone on the subway today.”

It wasn’t as much as meeting as it is passing by, but there’s a heavy silence across the table as his mother’s glare suddenly turns real.

“No. Nope. I don’t like you talking to strangers on the city lines. That’s how people get murdered in subways and stuffed into the nearest dumpster.”

“Hold on, nothing like that ever happens, ever.” Remus argues. “You made that up. And he’s my age, also harmless, I swear.”

“Wait.” His mother’s green eyes suddenly dances with mirth, her voice breathy. “Did you meet a _boy_?”

The way she says it makes Remus think he probably shouldn’t have let the pronouns slip.

“No, no, nono, nothing like that,” he says hastily. “I just - he’s -” The words tumble out of their own free will. “How do you know if you’re in love?”

His papa drops the tortilla on the table. Remus’ mother is too busy trying to stop herself from ridiculously beaming to care about the mess, and Remus can’t believe he’s talking about _this_ , right _now,_ with his _parents_.

“Baby, are you in love?” She leans forward, interest clear on her face.

“No. I-” Remus fumbles for an excuse. “It’s for -um - research. I’m working on an extra credit project for statistics. I may or may not have expressed interest with someone on the train, so I’m calculating the exact circumstances of seeing him again.”

It’s not exactly a lie, not really. He _did_ have a project that needs to be done, and this just happens to be the perfect topic to pursue.

“A stranger?” Papa raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Are you sure? He could be a serial killer.”

“Or racist.” Mamita adds.

“Or straight.”

“Or his name might Snuffles von Doofkin.”

“Gee, thanks, Pa. Really feeling the support here.” Remus responds dryly. “He’s not that much of a stranger. He’s a musician. Also, he looks good in a leather jacket.”

“Well, that’s romantic, I guess.” Mamita murmurs under her breath.

Remus throws a piece of his uneaten dinner in their direction.

>>>>>>>>>>>

Statistics are all about narrowing down the pool of data. So far, Remus has figured out the three variables for his experimental criteria.

  1. The time and place. He needs to take the train at exactly 6:45 AM in the morning, using platform 9¾ . If he took a random train at a random time, the possibility of seeing Mystery Boy are next to impossible.  
  2. His activity and precise location. He had been standing near the window on the east of the train and looking out into the abyss.
  3. And of course, the other boy’s activity. For Remus’ project, he has to assume that the other boy uses the same schedule every day as well. If random variables other than these are thrown in, the chances decrease, but if it goes exactly to plan, the chances will increase. And god, does he hope it’ll increase.



On Monday morning, the data collecting commences.

Remus takes his place by the window, his pulse thumping erratically through his bloodstream. Would his plan work? Would he see the leather jacket boy again? Or maybe Remus was just starving for romantic affection and he’d imagined the entire soulmate concept up in his head. He hasn’t been wrong many times, but if there was a higher being pulling the strings, it hadn’t been particularly nice to him before.

He’s thinking about all of this when he sees Mystery Boy for the second time.

He’s back, with his hair twisted up into a bun and still wearing the same red beanie and leather jacket from last time. Remus spies small yellow stitches on the right sleeve that spells out the name PADFOOT. Alright, not as bad as Snuffles von Doofkin, that’s okay, because as Remus makes eye contact with mystery boy, he is suddenly blessed with the gift of breathtaking dimples.

Just as he’s registering his emotions, his subway car screeches to a halt and sends him stumbling. So does Padfoot’s.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a voice drones out from the speakers. “We’re very sorry to inform you that there is a delay due to a malfunction. We should be proceeding shortly…”

Padfoot smirks at Remus and lowers his head sadly towards the ground. Remus snorts. The other boy cocks his head towards the side, grins, and shakes his fist at what he presumes are the heavens. Remus pretends to weep. Padfoot mimes knocking his head against the window, falling down and out of sight.

Remus scrunches up his nose and makes a noise of disgust. He’s read somewhere that subway grounds are one of the most unsanitary places in the world. The old lady next to him gives him a look, and he stares back until she looks away.

When he glances back out the window, Padfoot is scribbling something down on a large blue notebook. He holds it up, and Remus squints to read it. In elegant cursive, it says:

_WHAT’S WITH THE FACE? I THOUGHT YOU CARED ABOUT ME :( I COULD’VE ACTUALLY DIED, YOU KNOW._

Remus laughs out loud, before clapping a hand over his mouth. Padfoot looks delighted with his reaction. He starts to write something else down, but before Remus can see what it says, his train jolts into motion and hurtles forward, leaving Padfoot in its wake.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<

He couldn’t think of anything at school that day except for Padfoot. Here’s are his notes on him so far:

  1. He’s an artist. There had been sketches of facial structures surrounding his notebook pages. (One had curls and an overbite. But maybe he’s just hopeful).
  2. He has one outfit. Red beanie, leather jacket, ripped jeans. That’s it.
  3. He plays an instrument, possibly a violin from the look of the case.



None of this is relevant to Remus’ research. But he adds it in his notes anyways, just in case his statistics teacher wanted to know.

 >>>>>>>>>>>>>>

His peers burst out into outrage when Remus tells them about his project.

“You can’t be serious!” Peter exclaims, jaw dropping open. He has his head in his hands and looks so distressed that Remus is genuinely worried that his friend is about to have a nervous breakdown. “I can’t believe you didn’t give him your number! You could have held it up to the window!”

“I didn’t think of that.” Remus retorts defensively. “Besides, if my data is correct, I’ll see Padfoot the next time I’m following my schedule. Which will be Wednesday.”

“Why are you skipping a day?” Lily frowns, eyebrows furrowing together.

“Experiments. I need to know if my criteria works.”

“That’s tempting fate!” Peter gesticulates wildly, on the verge of hysteria.

“It’s not fate! It’s math.”

“Peter’s right,” Lily says. She adjusts her glasses and peers at Remus with an expression he can’t decipher, like she knew something he didn’t. He decides that he doesn’t like it. “It’s fate.”

“It’s not fate.” Remus snaps his notes shut, growing more irritated by the second. “It’s _math_.”

“Why do you think you keep seeing him, then? Why do you think both of your trains stopped at the same time in the first place? It’s fate, I’m telling you.”

“I’ll tell you why I keep seeing him. He goes to school in the northern part of London, and I go to school in the south. School starts around the same time wherever you attend. There are limited ways for trains to cross like it did ours. The pool of variables keeps shrinking. If you think about it, how can I not see him?”

“This isn’t a GCSE question, Moony. We’re talking about real people here. Human emotions and mistakes happen all the time. The world is not all based on careful calculations and precise plans like you believe, Remus. Real life is more complicated than math.”

“I beg your pardon. It was a carefully orchestrated collection of perfectly timed events that overlapped our lives.”

“Or,” she argues. “It’s the universe.”

There’s a tense moment of silence as Peter’s wide gaze bounce between his two classmates. Remus breaks away first. It’s clear that no one understands the true integrity of math except for him.

“Hang on,” Frank Longbottom blinks. “Why are we calling him Padfoot?”

<<<<<<<<<<<<<

Over the next few weeks, Remus takes careful notes of everything happening around him. Either it’s that he was late for a fraction of the second and the train went on without him, or when he accidentally spilled his coffee and decided to ask his mother for a ride instead. He also makes note of the possibility of Padfoot going through the same obstacles.

Anyways, his research is stacking up like he anticipated. Every single note is scrawled onto a Word Document, spreadsheets full of numbers scattered all over his Drive.

But here’s the thing: he hasn’t seen Padfoot since the second time they’ve met.

Of course he’s tried to. In fact, he _needs_ Padfoot in order for his project to succeed, but every day there was something that collided with the perfect criteria he’s set up.

Monday, it rained and the train arrived at 6:50 instead of 6:45.

Tuesday, his train got rerouted.

Wednesday, he had to call in sick.

Thursday, Padfoot was nowhere to be found.

He doesn’t understand. He’s doing everything right and meeting all of the criteria. His math is on point; his thesis proven to be true.

Maybe Lily was right.

Maybe this is the universe telling him that Padfoot was never meant to be his. They’ll go on their separate ways. His life would continue to revolve around formulas and equations, and Padfoot would continue being Padfoot, the cute instrument playing, message writing, leather jacket wearing mystery.

Maybe it was for the best. If they ever met in real life, he would become real. And all these details Padfoot knows about him would become mixed with the imperfect ones, the ones no one wants to know, details that would take him out of Remus’ indescribable dreams and into the cold, harsh blade that is reality.

The voice box of the subway rattles violently several times before the conductor’s voice forces its way out in a tinny. “Ladies and gentlemen, there has been a malfunction with the train system. We must ask for all to head towards the exit and switch to train services at platform 10, thank you…”

Remus gathers up his posters and his spreadsheets for his presentation later that day. The morning haze dissolves as he heads towards the opposite tracks, leaving everything clearer and more vivid, including his thought process.

He can’t help but feel stupid about making such a big deal over one boy. People pass each other all the time in London. Once in a while, an encounter would change a person’s life, but most of the time it didn’t.

Everyone lives out their own stories. Sometimes they intersect, sometimes they don’t.

There’s no telling if it would involve you in it.

A backpack shoves into him, causing him to stumble backwards and jostle out of his thoughts.  

No - not a backpack.

A violin case.

“Sorry, sorry.” a voice says. “I need to be by the window right now, I need to meet someone-”

Then they both look up, and their eyes meet for the third time.

It’s Padfoot, in all of his leather jacket glory. He smiles, and Remus grins stupidly back, and suddenly he gets it. He gets why people take chances and risk lives and believe in fate and hoped for things against all mathematical odds.

He doesn’t need numbers to prove that love is real. The feeling is the proof.

He opens his mouth and asks the question that’s been tormenting him for a month now.

“Hi.” Remus says. “So, do you wear the same outfit every day, or what?”

<<<<<<<<<<<<<

The interesting thing about time is its mathematical consistency.

Lives are made of millions of composite moments - tiny, seemingly insignificant seconds that pile up and lead up to one big event. Time is pliable. One decision, one factor, can be enough to tip the balance.

There wasn’t anything specifically particular about the choices Remus made that led him to Sirius “Padfoot” Orion Black, but in the end, he wasn’t complaining.

It turns out that Sirius does have more than one outfit, but for the entire month of May, he wore the same one, every single day, so that the cute hazel eyed boy with the fascinating scars would recognize him if they ever saw each other again.

Not that Remus needed it.

**Author's Note:**

> i actually had to research how many subway lines are under london for this to be accurate, the pains of being a writer
> 
> this story would not be posted if it weren't for my beta reader @loganaa-fic they are an incredibly wonderful fantastic person and life saver - everyone needs someone like loganaa in their life i stg
> 
> also guess what since there wasn't a mention of james in this universe AND THAT CANNOT BE I LOVE MY SON. y'all will be gifted with a sequel in sirius' pov soon you can thank loganaa for that too bc they let me scream about random headcanons in our dm


End file.
